The Parting Glass
by Riptide Monzarc
Summary: The Normandy crew have fought their way across the galaxy, and Kelsa Shepard just wants to relax at Anderson's apartment for awhile...but her friends have other ideas. (Kind of a songfic.)


Author's note: This is a one-shot set in the _Sol Invictus_ storyverse, near the end of the Citadel party. I'd love to hear what you think!

* * *

The whiskey's been flowing for almost an hour, and their red-haired guest raises her cup. "Sing us a song, Irish-Eyes," she insists, using that half-challenging, half-enticing voice that used to crawl from Kelsa's ears straight down to her toenails back in OCS.

Kelsa sees everyone else's eyes perk up; Garrus and Tali share a look, light glinting off of the thinner eye-holes in Tali's more fully-armoured faceplate, while Liara and Sam both raise their eyebrows. But it's Williams who breathes first, jumping valiantly into the breach left by the request. "Didn't know you could sing, Commander," she offers, innocently enough, though her eyes don't budge.

"Can't," Kelsa rebuffs, turning her gaze to the golden liquid in her glass before she tips it back and washes it all down her throat. It doesn't burn; doesn't even sting...instead, the Jameson hits all of her buttons, from the back of her throat to the bottom of her belly, and she breathes out in a long, rough sigh. "Shiv here got me to screech out a few old songs with her, a long fucking time ago," she allows, her tongue loosened by the mouthful of whiskey, and all the mouthfuls the hour had seen already.

Vega tilts his head, glancing sidelong at Siobhan. "What I hear, you got Lola to sing more than once, back in the day," he gruffs, grinning at the tinge of red that whispers behind the Irish woman's freckles.

Siobhan clears her throat, grinning self-consciously under the sudden attention that had, until Vega's comment, been focused on Kelsa. "I'd say Irish-Eyes gave as good as she got," the commando deflects, her eyes flicking to Liara, and Kelsa can practically hear the apology that Siobhan leaves unsaid.

"Ain't it enough that I pulled your ass out of the fire?" Kelsa grunts, shaking her head, and the room doesn't stop twitching for a few seconds.

Siobhan gives a sigh of her own after a sip from her cup, but before she can concede, Liara speaks up. "Actually," she points out, "it was I who came to Siobhan's aid on Cyone, per your instructions."

Cortez cracks open another beer. "She makes a point, Commander," he observes, before clinking a silent toast with Vega and taking a pull off of his bottle.

_And I could find a new pilot_, Kelsa almost says, but Liara's not finished. "And as such, I think I'd be very interested in hearing you sing us something, Kelsa."

"As would I," Sam adds, her voice small, still uncertain.

Kelsa's gut clenches as she looks from the asari to the comms specialist and back again, the territory between the three of them still unmapped, tenuous, scarred with Kelsa's bad decisions. Garrus' two-toned voice broaches the silence. "Come on, Shepard," he cajoles her. "Why don't you...how's the human expression go?" His mandibles twitch, amused. "Ahh, yes...hum a few bars for us." The rest of her companions, all gathered together for what might well be the last time, join in with their own taunts and entreaties. Even Miranda and Jack seem to agree.

Kelsa swallows hard, ready to tell them all to go fuck themselves, but when Siobhan actually _does_ start humming, an old memory floats to the front of Kelsa's mind, of another drunken night on the top bunk of her old bed in OCS. "Alright," she concedes, through clenched teeth. "But just because Cortez is cleaning my shotgun."

She takes a few deep breaths, tasting the fumes from the Jameson already leeching into her lungs, and everyone around her falls into a hush. The soldier closes her eyes to the world, the old tune growing sharper in her thoughts, and when her lungs are full again, she lets the air stream out in a low, mournful moan. "Oh, all the money that e'er I had…" Her voice is rough, pebbled with a thousand battle-screams and thickened by untold gallons of alcohol over the years, and it cracks around the last syllable. She coughs, taking another breath to try again.

"_Oh, all the money that e'er I had_

_I spent it in good company_

_And all the heartache that e'er I caused_

_Alas, it's come to none but me…"_

Kelsa opens her eyes, fixing them on the middle distance, so that everyone falls into the periphery of her vision. Another breath gives her the air to keep going.

"_...And all I've done, for want of wit_

_To mem'ry now, I can't recall_

_So fill to me the parting glass_

_Good night, and joy be with you all…"_

Nobody snorts, or smirks, or begs for her to shut up, even though part of her wants them to. Kelsa feels the soul of the song coil around her heart, seizing it, and she almost decides to stop...but the rapt attention in Liara's eyes and the surprised interest in Sam's face conspire to drag the next verse out of her.

"_...If I had money, enough to spend_

_And some leisure to bide awhile_

_There's a fair maid in this old town_

_Who sorely has my heart beguiled…"_

Her eyes sting a bit, and she swallows thickly, the tones no less rough, but surer all the while. She can't look at Samantha or Liara directly, not if she wants her cheeks to stay dry, so she seeks her own reflection in what's left of her drink. The words that crawl out of her throat don't match the song she used to hum with Siobhan, not precisely, but they fit her better now.

"_...Her dusty cheeks and rough-bit lips_

_I own she has my heart enthralled_

_So fill to me the parting glass_

_Good night, and joy be with you all…"_

Gathering her courage, Kelsa pulls the dregs from her glass glass down her throat and holds it out, where Jack silently refills it as the soldier takes another breath.

"_...A man may drink and not be drunk_

_A man may fight and not be slain_

_A man may crawl upon death's door_

_But still be welcomed back again..._

"_...Yet none may scorn the time and tide_

_A time to rise and a time to fall_

_Come fill to me the parting glass_

_Good night, and joy be with you all…"_

Now she takes a long, sweeping look across the room, burning their faces into her mind. Women and men who've killed-and died-by her side or by her hand. The apartment, spacious as it is, can't possibly accommodate all of the ghosts that haunt her, much less the weight of responsibility she feels for those still breathing. She sniffs, forging into the final verse with a soldier's discipline, unflinching even at her lovers' stares.

"_...Oh, all the comrades that e'er I had_

_They're sorry for my going away_

_And all the lovers that e'er I had_

_They'd wish me one more day to stay..._

"_...Yet since it falls unto my lot_

_That I should rise and you should not_

_I'll gently rise and I'll softly call_

_Good night, and joy be with you all_

_Good night, and joy be with you all."_

After her sandpaper voice fades into the ether, nobody speaks for almost a minute, sobered by the unexpected performance. Her lovers' eyes shine with unshed tears, and Kelsa's own throat feels thick, so she knocks back the whiskey that Jack had poured for her. "You asked for it," she gruffs, shrugging.

"That was...beautiful," Sam manages, blinking hard. "I never knew you could do that."

The others seem to agree, but Tali, Garrus, and Liara also look more troubled. Siobhan puts voice to their concerns when she pulls an old quote out of her head. "I daresay the whole result of this entire war depends upon the life of one most brave and excellent woman."

There it is, the truth that's stared her in the face since Earth fell, since the alpha relay, since Virmire...since Detroit. "Yeah," she manages, falling back into her chair. "But if anyone asks this _brave_ and _excellent_ woman to dance, I _will_ shoot them," she warns, offering a scarred smirk. "Twice."


End file.
